Soooo... It's been, quite literally, more than a year since I have updated this fic.

I am so so sorry.

Life has just been- hectic. There were a lot of major changes going through my life and as such I just didn't have it in me to create much new content, instead fixing up old stuff I have written or planned out before hand.

I'm really sorry for the long wait, everyone. Know this story is not and never will be abandoned until I finish it. It takes me a while, sometimes, but I won't leave anyone behind.

If you're still here with me, I am, frankly, amazed, and more than a little honoured.

As always, massive shout out to Shiranai Astune. Thank you for lending me modified versions of your OC's and this idea!

Hope you enjoy this next part! It's over eight thousand words, so maybe you can take that as a bit of an apology for my suckiness. :)

***WARNINGS***

This chapter DOES contain mentions of abuse, muggings, and attempted sexual assault. There are also several mentions of blood and of previous deaths of minor characters. None of these things occur to the actual Avengers- instead other OC people of passing mention- and almost everything is not explicitly described in any manner that is very brief. STILL, if these things could trigger you in any way, please proceed with caution!

...

It was dark. Pitch black, and Francis was starting to see colours that weren't really there, his mind playing tricks on him in effort to make him see something.

It was annoying. And, needless to say, a bit concerning.

He breathed harshly through his nose. Tensed up all his muscles, let them fall lose, and then closed his eyes.

Not that it made a difference, but at least it made him feel less insane.

At one point, there had been clanking and pounding and the sounds of heavy machinery. It had been loud, ridiculously loud, and Francis had listened to it as the whirring and almost overbearing humming had filled the massive underground chamber, vibrating the walls of his container until he had felt the need to plug his ears and hunker down in a corner, trying to count his breaths and push back against the sense of his heart pounding too hard in his chest.

The pistons had been hammering and hissing, all around him, and all Francis had been able to do was close his eyes and tell himself again and again, this is not a battlefield, this is not a battlefield, because he remembered, he remembered, how it felt like to be exposed in a mass of patrolling robots whose only goal was to destroy him and his team.

You couldn't be exposed there. You couldn't hesitate, couldn't falter, you just had to go, because otherwise you were as good as dead.

When Francis had been ten, a small four year old had wandered out of their base and into the open sunlight, chasing a small bug as it skittled away. She had been gunned down in moments, and Francis still remembered just opening his mouth and- screaming. Silently.

Silently. He hadn't even been able to scream out loud because he knew- he knew- that if he did that, if he did that, the little girl wouldn't have been the only person killed that day.

The sound had cranked on for hours, and Francis had sat there, feeling as if that scream was still trapped in his throat, waiting to escape, waiting to be released into the air and get everyone he knew and loved killed-

Eventually, there had been silence, and he had his his face in his knees and breathed ragged breaths until his ears had stopped ringing and the air had stopped rattling in his lungs.

How long had he been in here? A day? Two days? He felt like it had been ages since the lights had last turned on. He felt like it had been years.

He was exhausted, he knew. Getting to a point that it would be dangerous if he entered a conflict zone. But at the same time, he couldn't help it, because no matter how he tried he couldn't get himself to rest, couldn't get himself to relax. Everytime he got close, that awful voice would start whispering in his ear, reminding him he was a hostage, reminding him that his friends were in danger-

And, well, it was impossible to sleep after that.

For a while, Francis had paced, up and down and back and forth, marching around the small glass room like a lion in a cage. But then his tiredness and the stumbling darkness had made him falter in even that, and he had sat down on the floor, trying to figure out how to escape.

Except, except-

Without his bow and arrows, without his utility belt, Francis Barton was a very, very limited hero. He wasn't crazy flexible or crazy strategic like James. He wasn't a supergenius like Pym, or carrying around his own personal taser embedded into his skin like Azari was. He wasn't as incredible strong like Torunn-

Torunn.

God, he missed her. He missed her so much and he didn't even know what to do about it. He missed her smile, he missed her laugh, he missed the way her eyes settled into that determined look right before a battle. He missed her strength, her steady presence, her ridiculous jokes and- and-

He missed all of them. He wanted to just go home- When had their little hideout become home? - and watch a film and watch Pym and Azari's antics and make James sleep for once in his fricken' life and kiss Torunn like, a lot-

"What did you do with him!?"

In moments, Francis found himself stumbling to his feet. Suddenly, all the lights were on and blazing- blinding, they were blinding, he couldn't see a thing, and he felt as if every minuscule molecule of him was exposed, was i r- and he wasn't alone, because there was Lacey's high voice being shrieked out at him.

She sounded angry. She sounded furious-

She sounded scared.

Francis rubbed at his eyes frantically, trying to make the blurred vision and sudden headache go away.

"Who? What the hel-" wait, Lacey was even younger than Pym, that wouldn't work, "heck. What the heck are you talking about?"

Someone banged on the glass, and Francis' watering eyes could just make out the small form of the dark haired girl as she snarled at him.

"Lucian," she hissed, something high and panicked in her tone, "Lucian, he's missing and it's all your fault-"

Francis blinked rapidly, something like worry churning in his gut.

"I didn't do anything to him! Lacey- I promise you- I promise you I didn't do anything to him. But if you let me out I'll help you look for him, okay? I'll help-"

"No- no I- I can't. I can't. Dad- Lucian-"

She was staring at him, glaring at him, her hands gripping and releasing the sleeves of her shirt. In the bright lighting, the bruise on her face stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her green eyes were narrowed and her features cold, but Francis could see the way her feet shifted, the way her hands trembled.

She was trained, yes, but worry was making her sloppy, making her slip.

He wanted to punch someone, preferably Mr. Xenos.

Who did that? Who- who did that? Who took their children and hurt them like that? Who placed such weight on their shoulders that they were crushed beneath the staggering heaviness?

How could you look at your own child and make them a pawn to your own agenda, your own war?

His mind flickered back, back, to large calloused palms on his small smooth ones. "'This is how you shoot," his father had said. And they had shot arrow after arrow, time and time again, until Francis's hands bled. And Clint had wrapped them up, something grim and tired in his features, something pained, and told him to push through, push through, don't slip up because then you'll be dead-

That's different, Francis thought, there was no choice, there was no choice, you do what you have to do in order to survive.

Lacey stared up at him, bruises on her face and snarl in her throat and fear in the hunch of her shoulders. This is a girl who set up a bomb in a building filled with hundreds of people. This is a girl who led him to being kidnapped, who was instrumental to a plan that could get him and his friends killed.

…. This was a girl who was doing what she had to do in order to survive.

So Francis looked at her, took a deep breath, and when he spoke his voice was so gentle it almost hurt.

"Yes- you can. Lacey, you're brother could be in serious trouble if we don't-"

"No. N-no. I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't-

She was trembling all over now, glancing slightly over her right shoulder before focusing again on Francis. He blinked, eyes narrowing, and peaked at the darkness that lay beyond.

He couldn't say anything, so he turned back to the young girl standing in front of him.

"Lacey-"

"NO! None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me and left when I told you to-"

He blinked. Blinked again. Just listened? What-

And then he remembered. Her bright fearful face, staring up at him in pale moonlight.

He remembered.

You don't understand! You gotta go, now! Otherwise he'll-

She had tried, had tried to get him out before it was too late. And he hadn't listened to her, because he was too concerned about her bruises, too determined to follow his lead…

But she had tried. She had tried.

It gave Francis hope, because it was probably too late for him, but maybe it wasn't too late for her.

Her father's twisted words and twisted punishments had been ingrained in her head, but maybe he could still save her heart?

He didn't know, but he had to try.

Also, he had to stop reading so much of Torunn's Norse Epics. They were making him way too poetic and mushy for his tastes.

Lacey had stepped forward now, in those split second moments that it had taken him to recall what she had been referring to, in those split second moments where he had decided that he wouldn't give up on her, this girl with the too old eyes and broken pieces she had shoved under a rug so that the rest of the world wouldn't be able to see, too scared that they would take the shards and simply grind them down to dust instead of gluing everything back together.

Lacey had stepped forward, and her green eyes were like glass.

"Everything was fine until you heroes showed up. Everything was- fine. But now, now Dad's angry all the time, even worse than before, and Lucian is- Lucian is in trouble, and he's- Dad's going to- going to-"

Something cold stabbed at Francis' heart.

"Lacey?"

She stayed silent, all the blood drained from her cheeks, looking at something that no one else could see.

"Lacey, what's he going to do?"

She tilted her face, staring at him, face drawn and pale like she had just seen a ghost.

"He says that if I can't get Lucian to follow the rules, he's going to kill him."

Torunn stared around the room. It was sparse, lacking in decoration and in posters, lacking in anything really that would signify it as belonging to Francis. In fact, it it weren't for the small stand made for his bow and arrows tucked away besides the bed- easily accessible in case of attack, her analytical mind noted- it could have very well been a guest room.

But the sheets smelled like him, and the closet was filled with the sparse items of clothing that he owned. She knew that there was a hidden latch in one of the drawers where he kept a picture of him and his father, the Archer. She knew, too, that the sole pillow one the bed was left unused each night because he still wasn't used to having a mattress, much less pillows and comforters.

…. She knew, too, that it had been over 36 hours since Francis Barton had been seen.

(Some part of her, the part of her not afraid to admit that she was keeping track, murmured 38 hours, 43 minutes, 19 seconds, and counting. She ignored it.)

She was angry. She was furious. Why had he not gotten her? Was it a matter of trust? A matter of- of what? Stupid pride? She could have helped. She would have helped. She was a warrior, a daughter of Thor, she was strong-

She was… scared.

Gods, she was scared.

She wanted to do something, to fly and search the city, to fight, to find her stupid boyfriend and bring him back.

But nobody knew where he was. Their one lead had gone dry and there were no other trails to follow, and Pym was hacking what few street cameras that had been set up so far to try and figure out where he could be, but even that wasn't going to be very helpful because they all knew Francis preferred to travel by rooftops and there weren't likely going to be any cameras up there.

And she couldn't even go out searching, because James hadn't wanted anyone to be alone outside of the base, because it was too dangerous- never mind that Torunn was a warrior, nevermind that she was probably one of the most proficient at battle, nevermind that Torunn was smart and quite literally one of the gods-

James had looked at her while she had been arguing with him, the bags under his eyes deep and present, his straight-backed shoulders for once hunched and drawn. He had looked so, so tired, and she had wondered if he had slept any since this whole ordeal had begun.

(He hadn't, she knew. But, then again, neither had she.)

"Torunn," he had said, and his voice had cracked, "please."

And Torunn had breathed, breathed, fast and hard and heavy and something panicked in the pounding in her chest, and said okay.

The small, relieved smile James had given her had made it almost worth it.

Almost.

Part of her, the part of her dubbed Emotions that she struggled with every day, that went mushy whenever Francis kissed her and wanted to keep Pym safe because sometimes he just seemed so young and loved whenever Azari put on light shows and still sort of looked to Tony as this untouchable person to keep her safe even though she'd seen him bruised and bloody and broken-

Part of her wondered when she had last seen James not tired. Part of her wondered when she had last seen James smile, really smile, when she had last seen him stand tall because he had wanted to and not because it was the only way he felt he could bear the weight of the world and not shatter.

"Okay," she had said. "Okay."

And she had meant it. She was a warrior, a daughter of Asgard: she was not another burden to be placed on her brother's shoulders.

But at the same time, at the same time-

At the same time, she was listless and frustrated. Because Francis, Francis-

Francis made her feel like she could pick up a thousand suns. He made her feel like she was a thousand suns, bright and burning, as if a million of lifetimes with him still wouldn't be enough.

And he was gone.

He was gone, and Torunn didn't know what to do with herself if she couldn't go after him. She didn't know what she would do if she found out that they were too late-

One time, when Torunn had been patrolling, a mugger had stabbed an old man and ran off. There had been so much blood everywhere, and Torunn had called for back up even as she had dropped to her knees and placed her hands in position to keep pressure on the wound, to keep the blood inside where it was supposed to be.

By the time the emergency vehicle had arrived, the man had already been long dead. The paramedic- who had been young when he had first started and only now with Ultron gone was getting his chance in the field- had patted her shoulder and held out a rag to wipe her bloodied hands with, telling her Sometimes, you're just too late.

You're just too late.

She couldn't be too late this time. Not with Francis. Not with her family. Not this time, not this time, please not this time...

In some ways- in some ways this was even worse then when Tony was kidnapped, because- because-

Because with Tony they knew. They knew, they could take steps towards fixing things, to getting him back, to making it right. They could be the heroes they were meant to be and rescue him, bring him home, make themselves whole again and-

And-

And here they had no clue. They had no way to even start and it was killing her.

The couldn't know, she couldn't know, and how is it that not knowing is so much worse than being afraid?

There is no rationality with this, she thought, no standards to hold things to, no ways to reassure oneself, because Francis could be anywhere, with anyone and-

And-

Torunn laid down on the mattress and breathed, breathed.

The sheets smelled like him, and her eyes watered and she bawled her firsts angrily to wipe at the tears before they could even think to fall.

Francis had taught her to dance in here. Or, rather, Francis had seen her watching a couple dancing in some old film that Tony had put on for them and had dragged her here, where they shared stale fruit loops leftover from breakfast and then clumsily swung each other around the room, neither of them really knowing what they were doing and neither of them really caring.

There had been no music, but Francis had been laughing and it was all the melody Torunn had ever needed to hear.

...there was no laughter now. No melody. Just cold, lonely silence and the lingering smell of someone who was no longer there.

"Lacey… that's not right. You know that's not right. That's not okay-"

Lacey glanced behind her shoulder, looked back at him, bit her lip, shook her head. She was seriously shaking now, the only remains of her mask the lack of clear emotion on her face. Francis wondered how long she had waited until she had given up hope that someone could save her, could save her brother. Francis wondered how if they had been quicker, if the Avengers had found Lacey and Lucian a few months ago, when all of this had begun at that stupid Peace Conference, would they have listened to them? Could they have prevented this?

He didn't know. Couldn't know. Just like he couldn't know about Ultron finding their base and killing his dad, the way the older archer would carefully grab Francis by the shoulders, switch out their bow and arrows, and shout over the whirring robots around them to Go, go, I'll hold them off but you have to go, Francis, do you hear me? Don't worry about me- don't come back here, just go and don't stop. Take care of them, take care of yourself, I love you, I love you-

(He had gone back. Of course he had gone back. All there had been was blood and ruin, and the pale corpse of a man who had once meant home.)

Just like he couldn't know about these- kids. Children. Showing up out of the blue with powers beyond what Francis could imagine possible, even with his Dad's stories. Francis had never believed those tales, of those godly beings who walked the earth like men and kept the world safe and happy and good. How could he? All he had ever known was destruction. But then- those kids had shown up, with their lightning and strength and size manipulations, and he had thought, okay, okay, and felt something that might have been hope for the first time in his life.

(And now they were home, a new home that was strange and different and nothing like his old one, but good nonetheless. And all Francis could think of was that he couldn't lose this, couldn't go through that loss and devastation again, couldn't live with himself if he somehow got them hurt-)

If they were in danger, Francis wondered, was there anything he would not do?

Lacey stared up at him, trembling all over, face like a ghost, and he thought the answer was hidden in her bright green orbs, because in that sense they were the same: they would do anything to keep their families safe.

"The Avengers would protect you, Lacey, we would keep you and your brother safe, your dad wouldn't be able to hurt you guys ever again."

But she was shaking her head, slow and careful, mouth set in a thin line, eyes beginning to narrow. Francis felt his heart sink: she didn't believe him. Whatever power Mr. Xenos had- be it real or an illusion implemented in her head through years of threats and abuse- it was far greater than any perceived capabilities of some teenage heroes.

Francis used to believe that about his own father. No matter how powerful Ultron got, no matter how many times he saw the man fall, his dad always seemed to get back up, and he used to think him invincible.

Look how that turned out.

"No," she whispered, voice hoarse and eyes dark, because sometimes your heroes are made of paper and the monsters are the ones no one can destroy, the ones who always get back up, "no, you'll just get us in trouble. You're going to get Lucian killed…"

She glanced back over her shoulder to that same corner she had been frequenting looks at all throughout their discussion, and then she looked forwards at Francis once more, face resolute.

She took a step back, and then another.

And then she disappeared.

I could have helped you, Francis thought, but he said nothing.

Sometimes, you're just too late.

Torunn curled up her fingers into a fist, glared up at the ceiling, and very carefully resisted the urge to destroy the entire room until all that was left was dust and rubble, as if that would somehow bring him back, as if that would somehow make things right-

"Torunn?"

She closed her eyes, felt ashamed: no one should have to see her like this.

Some hero, she thought, some hero.

"Go away, Pym."

Pym, as usual, ignored her. He padded inside the too empty bedroom, feet only making sounds to her over sensitive ears. She counted his steps, and very purposely didn't open her eyes when she knew he was standing right besides her at the side of the bed.

Undeterred, the younger boy crawled onto the mattress and squirmed up to her side. For once, he was quiet, and Torunn hated how worried that made her, hated how much emotions hurt, hated how much she cared.

He curled up around her, resting his head on her shoulder, and at first she stayed still and tensed. She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone. She wanted everything to stop, or at least for her to be able to do something.

But she couldn't. That was the problem, wasn't it? Someone she loved was in danger, and she could do nothing about it.

Eventually, slowly, the tension escaped out of her body. Pym was breathing, soft and fast and high and low, and Torunn breathed with him. They laid on that bed that had started to smell like home and breathed together.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

Pym's voice was small, when it filtered through the silence, like the last whine of an emptying balloon. Torunn felt her throat close up, cleared it, closed her fists and let it loose.

"I don't know, Pym."

He was frowning, she knew, upset. He sniffed, and her next words were so quiet that they were hardly more than a whisper.

"But I hope so. Gods, I hope so…"

When Francis had been thirteen years old, his father had died.

The man had told him to Go, go, had told him don't come back.

The man had told him he loved him, and Francis had been staring at his lips, reading them just as he had been taught, and couldn't even hear the words really over the sound of the sirens, the whirring of the machines that meant nothing but death and destruction and pain.

I love you, he had said, I love you, I love you, and Francis had-

He had-

He had gripped his father's hand so tight, had shifted to make the switch of bow and arrows as easy as possible, even if he couldn't understand why his father was doing it. He had-

He had stayed silent, watched those words being formed and had stayed silent in return, even though every fiber of his body was pounding back I love you, I love you, too.

But he hadn't said it, hadn't even signed it out with the flick of some of his fingers and he had to- he had to try- maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could-

He had made them run, this ragtag group of survivors in a world gone mad and dangerous, in a world designed to kill and break and destroy. He had made them run, run until his small thirteen year old lungs had hurt from the strain of it, and then they had gone down, down, down into the deep underbelly of the city, like rats in sewers, like specks of lights in the dark.

And then he had turned right back around and run back to where they had come from, had run and run and run and stumbled and fallen and picked himself back up and ran-

All that was left was rubble.

And-

His father's face, bloody and bruised, eyes staring and lifeless, and some part of Francis was telling him He's dead, he's dead, scavenge the body and go, go, you're exposed you're gonna get yourself killed but everything else was screaming, screaming, screaming, because Get up, get up, when Bartons fall down we always get up, c'mon Dad get up, e-

I love you, I love you, and no sound was coming out, breathless words and shaking limbs and Dad wouldn't even be able to hear it anyways because his hearing aids were broken and because he was- he was-

Someone- Betty- had pulled him away. He hadn't been aware he had been screaming until she had hushed him, hadn't realized he was crying until she had wiped away his tears. He hadn't realized he was safe until someone had pushed soup into his hands, and even then he felt as if he had never been in more danger.

His fingers, shaking, middle and index, moved down to rest against his palm, again and again and again.

I love you, I love you, I love you-

He had stared at his hands like they belonged to another body. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right again.

Betty had taken his hands, cupping them in her own. Francis couldn't hear her through the ringing in her ears, but through his blurred vision he could see the slow and careful signs her wrinkled fingers formed in the air between them.

Sometimes, Betty had told him, you're just too late.

You're just too late.

"Torunn! Pym! You guys!"

Azari came skidding into the room, feet sliding on the carpeted floor and chest heaving as if he had sprinted several miles. His eyes were wide, and electricity was sparking around his fingers, which he kept clenching and releasing, as if straining to get rid of excess energy.

Torunn was on her feet in moments, and Pym was leaping up right behind her.

"What!?" she demanded, "'What is it? Have you found him?"

Azari shook his head, then nodded it, then shook it again.

"No- but we have a lead! There's a kid- Lucian- Lucian from the mansion- He's- He's come to the base. He says he knows where Francis is-"

But Torunn was already gone, the only sign she was ever there a rush of wind as she flies down the hall.

Pym and Azari traded looks, and then they started chasing after her.

Francis stared at the splotch of darkness that Lacey had kept looking at, because his gut was insisting that there had to be some reason why, and Francis always listened to his gut.

(His gut was also telling him that it was very, very hungry and thirsty, having not eaten or drinken anything in over twenty four hours, and wanted a sandwich and a tall glass of water. Sadly, this part of his gut was ignored, as it couldn't be helped.)

He watched, counted the seconds in his head, and waited. He let his eyes go glazed, and for anyone watching it would seem as if he was simply staring into the distance, zoning out.

But he wasn't, he wasn't, he was waiting for his moment, watching for his move, analyzing...

And then-

A blink. A flash of red, lighting up the darkness for less than a moment, a blink and miss it muted flicker that was so dull it was near impossible to spot.

A camera, then. Francis was expecting that, knew that he would probably be watched, as creepy as that was.

But then why was Lacey so freaked out, then? Why did she keep looking back? There wasn't any reason unless…

Unless…

Unless she thought it wouldn't be on. Unless she thought their conversation was private.

It suddenly struck him that Mr. Xenos possibly didn't know his son had gone missing, that Lacey was covering for him, making excuses and keeping her younger sibling safe from her father's wrath.

But if Mr. Xenos watched the video, not only would he know that Lucian was gone, but that Lacey had made moves behind his back.

Francis felt the blood drain from his face.

What would that mean for the kids? What would it mean for his team? For himself?

Lacey's whispered words echoed back to him in his mind, making him feel as if his heart had sunk to his toes.

... if I can't get Lucian to follow the rules, he's going to kill him.

They were in danger. All of them were in terrible danger, and there was nothing Francis could do to stop it.

"Why are you here? How did you find this place? Where is he-"

"Torunn- stop."

Torunn spun around to glare at James, who glared right back with eyes that spoke of little patience and far too much exhaustion to be healthy. Behind the two of them stood Azari and Pym, shifting nervously as their two most hot headed warriors faced off.

In some regards, Francis had been a cooling temperament, being the voice of reason that Azari had so often tried- and often failed- to be. He was old enough and experienced enough that Torunn and James would listen to him, letting the high strung tensions release to the collective relief of all.

But there was no one to release the tension now, and Azari could feel it burning under his skin, making him spark. He bit his lip, raised his hand, let it drop to his side. There was really nothing he could do, here, except maybe pray…

Or…

He turned his gaze on the small figure standing in front of James and Torunn. He looked calm enough, but he was also anxiously shifting on his feet. Azari didn't blame him: he would be nervous, too, if he had to be the same room as the pair of heroes when they came to blows.

But with the pair of them fighting… well, it left Lucian wide open to talk with. And Azari was getting rather anxious to get their white-haired friend back where he belonged, just like the others were, and, well-

He supposed it couldn't hurt to try.

Carefully, he nudged Pym in the shoulder. The younger boy looked up at him, questioning, and Azari jerked his head towards Lucian, who was looking more and more frustrated by the moment.

Pym nodded, and the two of them cautiously inched their way around the room.

Silently, he placed a hand on Lucian's shoulder. The kid jumped, but Azari placed a finger to his lips and gestured to the kitchen around the bend. Slowly, looking mildly confused, the green-eyed boy nodded, and they all crept along until Torunn and James were out of sight.

Azari sighed.

"Sorry you had to deal with them: they're a bit… high strung, right now. And sleep deprived. And worried. And once they get going they can last for hours."

"One time we timed it! They fought with each other non stop for a solid three hours and twenty two minutes!"

Azari, without looking away from Lucian, stomped on Pym's foot.

"Hey! What was that for-"

He stomped on the foot again.

"OW!"

Giving up on Pym as a hopeless case in regards for subtlety and manners- and wondering why he even bothered trying in the first place- Azari turned his gaze on Lucian.

"We're all worried about Franc- Hawkeye. Is the reason you're here something to do with him?"

A nod, small and nervous, green eyes flicking back down the hall and then onto the two youngest Avengers once more.

The older boy very carefully resisted the urge to burst into questions. He actually listened when Tony had given his instructions on talking to suspects and victims. He knew that interrogating him on the get go would probably only make him clam up.

So he resisted, tucking that terrified voice that was screaming at him that one of his pack was in danger, screaming at him that he should be doing something. Because Francis was his friend in ways that he had never quite managed with his siblings, another introvert in a world full of extroverts. Someone who didn't mind sitting in silence and reading a book, someone who didn't need to constantly be loud and touching and present all the time. The closest Azari had ever gotten to that was James, and even then it had been a while since he had seen the elder teen actually relax, too weighed down by the rest of the world to sit still.

He resisted, because grabbing Lucian by the shoulders and screaming, "WHERE IS HE!?" wouldn't help Francis in any shape way or form.

He resisted.

Pym did not.

"It is!? Really? Why? What's going on? Why did you take him? Where is he? Can we see him now?"

"Pym, c'mon, man. I'm sorry, Lucian-"

"My dad took him."

Azari's head snapped up.

"What?"

Lucian bit his lip.

"My dad- he's- angry. He took him. He was the one who ordered the bombs, he was the one who sent the robots, and he was the one, who, uh, kidnapped your friend."

He looked down.

"Sorry."

Frowning, Azari shook his head.

"No, don't be sorry... It's your dad who-"

"But I helped! Me and Lacey- we both- Dad told us and we both-"

Pym was staring, Azari was staring. There was a sinking feeling in the older boy's chest as he thought about what the other was implying.

"You said that your dad ordered the bombs… but who was the one who carried the orders out?"

He was biting his lip again, and Azari knew the answer before the words even left his mouth.

"Me and Lacey. We did it. We set up the bombs. We also, we also helped kidnap your friend. I'm sorry."

And for a moment- for a moment Azari was angry. He was so, incredibly angry and he could feel the spark flashing off his tattoos, the way the electricity sang in his blood. He wanted to lash out at something, at someone, and here was someone who had messed everything up. Here was someone who had hurt him, who had hurt his little family when they were all already so broken and tired and bruised.

Here was someone… and they were a kid. A tiny misguided kid who was obviously trying to do the right thing- unless this was a trap…- and get out of a bad situation. Still, still-

This kid had tricked him, had misguided them and stuck them on the wrong path to finding their friend. This kid endangered hundreds of lives when he had set up those bombs in that building...

Maybe the kid could sense his turbulent emotions. Maybe he was just desperate to make him see some goodness inside of him and his sister, but he burst out, "But I sabotaged them! The bombs! I- I cut the wires connecting them, made it so- made it so people could get out, so that she could get out-"

Pym piped up.

"You mean that- that your dad made you do something that would have gotten her killed?"

Lucian didn't answer, but his face was drawn, and Azari wondered how tired he must be, how many nights he spent awake in the dark, waiting for another order that would get him and his sister killed. He tried to imagine it, tried to imagine Tony telling him to get himself killed, telling Pym to get himself killed, and he couldn't, he couldn't.

Slowly, Azari reached out and placed a palm on Lucian's shoulder. It had always made him feel brave, when someone did it to him, made him feel not alone. Maybe it would do the same for this sad little boy risking everything to make things right.

"We're gonna get you out, okay? You and your sister both. I promise. Now, tell me where Francis is."

By the time Torunn and James had finished their argument, the two of them suspiciously wet-eyed, Azari had a crudely drawn map, a thorough description of Mr. Xenos' schemes as Lucian knew them, and a plan of action.

He just hoped that it would be enough.

"Tell me, Mr. Barton, would you like to see your friends alive?"

"Shut up," Francis snarled. And he meant it. He just wanted the voice to stop, to leave him alone. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and far too done with the world to deal with snide comments and sly threats. In his head, the mantra was repeating itself over and over again, shut up shut up shut up shut up-

He just wanted to go home. Was that so much to ask? He just wanted to go home, to hang out with James, play with Pym, read with Azari, and spend time with Torunn. He wanted his bed and his bow and arrows, wanted to go to sleep and never get up again.

Hell, he would even take one of the old hideouts. Anything would probably be better than this, at this point.

(That was an exaggeration. Compared to Ultron, this was nothing. This man was nothing. But, then again, with Ultron Francis had so little to lose, and now he had so much.)

"Well, Mr. Barton, if you would like to see your friends again, you will step forwards and stand by the door."

"Piss off."

He doesn't have them, the archer thought to himself, they're back at the base, they're safe, they're safe.

But everything else was screaming at him, because for how long?

Safety never lasted, not really. Not when it mattered. Francis had learned that young, and he would never forget it.

(There was a bowl of soup in his hands, trembling fingers signing I love you, I love you, trembling fingers signing Sometimes you're just too late, and the world would never be safe after that, and Francis would stop signing anything more than orders.)

There was silence, finally, and Francis closed his eyes and reveled in it.

There was silence, and then there were footsteps, someone whimpering high and pained, and Francis was on his feet and staring, staring-

Mr. Xenos stared back, something manic in the glint of his eye, something insane, and in his right fist he held Lucy by the hair, and in his left he cocked a gun and placed it on her temple.

"Now, Mr. Barton," and the voice still sounded like it was coming from everywhere from the sheer amount of focus Francis was putting on it, "I suggest you step forwards."

Francis did not look away from Lacey the entire time.

I'm going to get you out of this, he wanted to say, even as she stared at him with distrust, I'm going to help you.

He stepped forward, and Mr. Xenos smiled.

"Down here, this way."

They were walking, making their slow, silent creeping way through the narrow hallways of the house. Lucian was slowly leading them, looking nervous and tensed, looking terrified down to his very bones. He breathed shallow and quick, but his face was determined and his feet were steady and soft on the carpet, and Torunn watched his careful steps and followed.

Followed, followed, if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine it was somebody else she was following, with stark white hair and strong broad shoulders and a smirking smile and eyes that sometimes looked around at them and the world they now lived in with this sort of quiet awe that made her heart squeeze, made her heart sort of sing and her heart sort of ache.

Love hurt more than anything she could have ever known. It burned inside her, burned her with that fire of a million suns, and she thought she had understood love and all its intricacies when she was still tucked away from the world with Tony and her siblings, that she had understood all its little intricacies and all its little quirks, but she hadn't.

She hadn't

There hadn't been fear, then, none of this all encompassing feeling that the world could hold such cruelties and all of those pains could be directed at those she loved. None of that heart gripping terror, because she remembered Tony, blood dripping to the floor and screams echoing through the room, remembered his haunted look, his tired tired eyes, remembered thinking gods when did he start looking so old, remembered thinking, gods please don't die, please don't die, I'll do anything, g-

It was funny, maybe, how you don't realize you would do anything for your family until every option is laid out, until you see every pain and every hurt, until you see every crack in their masks that say they are happy when really they are shattering.

Or maybe it was just sad. Maybe it was just sad how you don't realize how dangerous the world is and how fragile people are until they are already breaking.

Torunn gripped the bow in her hand and shifted the quiver on her back. They felt heavy, when truly she could lift hundreds of pounds more than their simple weight. She thought it was because her body knew that this weapon did not belong with her, knew that it belonged to Francis. She thought it was because every moment she was wearing it was another moment that he wasn't.

Lucian had found it for them, tucked away in a false backing of a small shoe cupboard in the back of the house, along with the utility belt that James was currently carrying. He had smiled so guiltily at them when he had first given it, and Torunn had tried to force herself to think it's not his fault even as everything else inside of her was screaming how dare you, how dare you, how dare-

There had been blood on the quiver. Just the smallest of amounts, nothing serious, but she swore that if anyone had made him bleed she would kill them.

(A part of her, upon seeing it, had wanted to puke, because she didn't think she could stand to find Francis like they had found Tony, out of his head with pain and falling apart at the seams. She didn't think she could stand to see that sight again from anyone in her small family, not now, maybe not ever.)

She heaved a breath and let it all go with a silent huff of sound. And she followed, followed, followed, because every step was a step closer to getting her boyfriend back, a step closer to making him safe, a step closer to bringing him home.

Step by step by step. That's how you did these things. Step by step by step.

"Freeze."

On instinct, Torunn froze. Pym carefully lowered himself to the floor, setting down the massive scanner he was holding. It was an invention of his own design- something that Francis had thought was so incredible when Pym had first revealed it, something Torunn hadn't even thought to be shocked of, because to her super genius was just how twelve year olds were- that was made to scan the area for small electronics that gave off similar energy readings to that of a video camera, and then manually hack into the video feed and loop it so that they could sneak past.

They had stopped an inordinate amount of times at this point, and it made her feel nervous, the fact that there were just so many cameras. She could feel their mechanical gaze pricking at her skin every time they snuck past one, even if she was invisible to its sight.

What would it be like, she wandered, to grow knowing every single one of your moments is being watched?

Her mind went back, back, to a life spent in a massive mechanical dome, caught like a fly in the trap. There were cameras, she knew, tucked away in the corners of the rooms and tucked in the hollows of trees and the leaves of bushes. There were cameras everywhere, and Tony had monitored his little self made world with a sort of hypervigilance that sometimes worried her.

That's different, Torunn thought, there was no choice, there was no choice, you do what you have to do in order to survive.

We were all just doing what we had to do to survive.

That was the thing about war, maybe. People fight and kill and make each other bleed, and all it ever does is get blood on the ground that needs cleaning up. There is power on the battlefield, yes, but it is a dangerous sort of power, one that is so easy to tip wrong.

She used to thirst for battle. She thought it would make her a warrior in her father's eyes, thought it would make her worthy. She fought for the fight, for the adrenaline rushing in her veins and the pounding rushing song singing in her blood.

She fought for that feeling of dangerous power, and now she looked back and sometimes felt so worried for the person she was, for the person she could be now.

Can you learn, from there? Can you grow?

She hoped so. Gods she hoped so.

Her grip tightened on the bow in her grasp, released, watched as Pym let out a triumphant sort of inhale of a gasp, the sort he usually gave when he was about to shout in victory only to realize he was supposed to be silent.

She would fight for the sake of the fight no longer. She would only fight for those things worth fighting for, for her family, for her friends, for those in the world who couldn't fight for themselves.

Torunn remembered sitting besides a woman who was still shaking from a failed rape that Torunn had stopped. The woman's shirt had been torn nearly clean in half, and she had been staring at the ground, eyes determined and angry and burning, even as her whole body tremored.

"You'd think," the woman spat as the Asgardian had sat silently besides her, "you'd think that things would get better after all- that. You'd think that people would stop- would stop-"

There hadn't been any words left to say, and the woman had buried her head in her hands almost angrily, and Torunn had taken off her cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. They had sat there in the quiet dark for an hour, then, until her girlfriend had managed to find them with her run down second hand pick up truck.

Torunn had sat there with that woman, seething, as she stared with a sort of unknown hatred at the knocked out man in the alley, the way he was curled into himself in a way that signified just where he hurt. She had sat and she had thought about the woman who shook and raged at a world that was so scarred and broken, thought about where this woman could have been if she hadn't been there, and she had thought This. This is worthy, this is a fight I could go for.

And she did.

And she did.

And she was, walking down this silent hall with her silent friends. They were going to get him back. She was going to get him back.

And nothing was going to stop her.

"Here," whispered Lucian, reaching up on his tippy toes- and it was weird, seeing someone in their little group even smaller than Pym- and pressing a small smooth indent hidden among the intricate designs of a picture frame.

There was a mechanical hiss, and then a section of the wall slid silently open.

Something was cold and angry in her stomach, because she had been in this room, right where she was now, Francis had been right there and she hadn't even known, hadn't done anything to help him and- and-

Focus, Thorsdóttir, keep your head. You're not out of danger yet.

This was not the time for such emotions. This was not the time for tears or frustration or sadness or pain. There would be time for that later, when they got him out, when he was safe.

"He's down here, we just have to go down these stairs and head to the sub-levels."

They all nodded at Lucian's statement, but were trading nervous glances above his head. This whole thing spoke of a trap, but then what choice did they have?

Francis could be down there.

No, she thought furiously, Francis will be down there.

He has to be.

And then they headed down, down, down into the darkness, and it almost felt like it was swallowing them up, the only light remaining being the pale blue glow from Pym's screen and the occasional spark from where Azari probably was, unseen and unheard except those little flecks of light, melting into the inky black like he was born to be there.

Torunn herself was feeling out of place, with her shining armour and bright blonde hair. She felt conspicuous in the dark, felt as if the whole wide world could see her if they cared to look. She didn't like going down so deep. Didn't like the fact that with every flight of stairs they walked down there was another level of concrete and metal and plaster before she could get to the open skies once more.

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter, because Francis was down there, and she would not leave him behind.

Not now. Not when they were so close.

Finally, finally, they reached the bottom floor and Lucian led their cautious way out of the stairwell and into high arching chamber beyond. Everywhere she looked, Torunn could see massive mechanical beasts looking down all around them, their white frames casting slivering shadows and shining oddly in the pale blue lights. Part of her wanted to stop, wanted to back up. Something's wrong, she wanted to say, but everything else in her was focused on following Lucian, focused on following his silent steps, because she could only follow, now, only follow, and hopefully it would lead her home.

They stepped out of the labyrinth made of rows of mechanical beasts all together, and as one they all simply froze.

There was a glass container in the center of the cleared area, thick glass sides and thick metal frames.

Pym dropped his device to the ground and James reached out and pulled him into a hug, tucking his face against his chest, his own face grim and hardened and desperately worried.

Azari was sparking all over, enough that Torunn could see the way his shoulders were hunched, the way his arms were crossed over themselves and the way he was just staring-

Lucian was stepping forwards, again, again, mumbling, "No, no, this doesn't make sense, this doesn't make sense, he was supposed to be… he was supposed to be…"

And Torunn was collapsing to the ground on her knees, bow clattering against hard cement, wanting to scream, wanting to cry, wanting to rage at the world because how unfair it was.

This couldn't be happening, it couldn't be, it couldn't be, it wasn't fair-

But it was happening. It was, because sometimes...

There was a glass container in the center of the chamber, and inside it…

Sometimes-

Inside it…

Sometimes you're just too late.

Inside it, there was nothing at all.

You're just too late.

...

*Coughs*

Don't kill me?

I SWEAR THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL NOT HAVE AS LONG A WAIT.

In fact, I'm tentatively hoping to get it up sometime next week.

As for this chapter...

Did you like it? I hope so! I even tried to make my AroAce butt get into gear and write romance, cause that seems to be something lots of folk were requesting. :3

DEDICATIONS!

Many thank you's to my wonderful and beautiful followers and favouriters! You guys are truly amazing and I'm so glad that you have hopped on board- this admittedly slow going- fanfiction train! Taiski, Megan1722, duaa5141, TonyaJacex, and AlchemyWriter, you all deserve first class tickets!

To my incredible, fantastic reviewers- some of which have been here from the very start- I am humbled by your presence in my life. Thank you, so so much. To Fangirlingovermarvel, Shiranai Astune, Tori, Tannerthemanner, Guest (1), AlchemyWriter, Guest (2), TheGravyKing, Guest (3), Kdnosnd, Ghost Guest, Guest (4), Guest (5), Romioanlo, and Guest (6), thank you SO SO SO MUCH.

The fact that I have such a wonderful following for this story that is so sporadic and broken up in updating is super heartwarming. Thank you so much, guys.

To respond to my guests:

*I have the unamed guests in order of when the review was given, from oldest to newest. :)

Tori: Tori, have I ever mentioned how much I freaking love you? My goodness- you're honest and easy and enthusiastic response to my writing just- brightens my day. Every time. I'm so sorry for the long wait but I am so happy that you enjoy the story. I hope you like the Francis and Torunn interactions here! Whenever you find this fic, know that you really have my gratitude for being such a loyal follower.

Tannerthemanner: I did keep it up! I just took a... year long... break? I'M SORRY. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Guest (1): Awww, thank you so much! I'm sorry that you welcomed me back only for me to vanish again. :( I hope you enjoy the Francis and Torunn moments though! And thanks for your lovely review!

Guest (2): HERE'S YOUR UPDATE SORRY IT'S LATE! I have all your interactions and all the team feels, so I hope I've caught you up and left you ready for more! Thank you for your review!

TheGravyKing: Hello there! I have your update with plenty of Francis and Torunn moments, but no combat - YET. Next chapter there's gonna be some fighting and conflict where things come to a head, promise. :)

Guest (3): THE UPDATE IS HERE, WAY TOO LATE AND I AM SO SORRY. I hope you liked seeing more of Francis though! To answer your question- and having you ask me questions just makes me so excited really, like, wow, what an honour you want to know about me and my character depictions!- you now know that Francis has a pic hidden away of him and his Dad. However, right now I thinks he's still too nervous around his new found family to have sentimental stuff just laying around in plain sight, or even to really settle in and ask for images in teh first place. This will change, of course, as time passes and the fact that Ultron is really gone and the Avengers are really there to stay begins to stick in his mind, but for now, no. Also, have to thank you, cause like you totally gave me an idea! :)

Kdnosd:AHHH- I'M SORRY PLEASE DON'T BE DEAD. Here's you're update?

Ghost Guest: Thank you so much for your concern! Yes, I am alive, I just- everything was really a lot this past year, and I needed to take a break. Still, I hope to have more content this year and more writing in general, so there's that! Hope you enjoy the chapter. 3

Guest (4): Twenty times!? That's incredible! I feel so awed you liked it so much! Here's your update, you glorious human you!

Guest (5): I'm so sorry! I didn't and won't forget you guys, I promise! I just really needed to focus on my studies and my personal problems for a while. :) Here's the next chapter, my friend, and next one should hopefully come soon.

Romianolo: Yes! I will never abandon a story. And if I do, I will inform people well ahead of time. Thanks for asking and hope you enjoy!

Guest (6): FRANCIS IS STILL CAPTURED BUT PLEASE DON'T DIE. Hold strong! Torunn is coming! :) Thank you for your review and sorry for the slow update!

NOTE:

If you wonderful guest reviewers would please put something unique instead of just 'Guest,' that would be really great! It's just easier for organizing and understanding who's who, and preventing me from responding to the same person more than once if they review twice. It also lets me know if you review to multiple chapters! You don't have to if you're not comfortable with it, of course, but if you would like to that would be really great!

Anyways, next chapter to be posted hopefully sometime next week, and only a couple more chapters left to go! We're getting to the endgame here, folks!

Thanks again for your patience and continued support. Sorry for the long author notes!